


A Grace, An Ache

by breakingsads



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: Dream Sex, Hurt/Comfort, I haven’t read the books so canon is literally whatever I arbitrarily decide it is, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Period Typical Attitudes, Praise Kink, Self-Esteem Issues, Victim Blaming, gay yearning x2000
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:00:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24255505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakingsads/pseuds/breakingsads
Summary: “Lord, I-” Sihtric faltered. He was unused to such praise, especially from a man he admired so greatly, and did not know how to react. “The lady knows I am loyal to you, always. That is all.”At this, Uhtred leaned his weight into Sihtric space and brought their foreheads together. “I will not forget what you have done for me, Sihtric.”
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sihtric/Uhtred of Bebbanburg
Comments: 32
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This story will track the developing relationship between Uhtred and Sihtric. First few chapters are exposition and follow the show more or less verbatim, with my own exploration of queer subtext included.....but it won’t stay subtext for long if I have anything to say about it!

Sihtric’s heart beat a staccato rhythm in his chest. _This is my only chance_ , he thought, as he held his guard’s sword up to the man’s own throat. Adrenaline shot through him, but Sihtric would not tremble. _I must be brave like my mother_ , Sihtric knew, or else this fool plan would never work.

Uhtred sprinted towards him from the camp, followed by a swarm of soldiers and Saxon nobles. Sihtric steadied his breaths and met Uhtred’s eye. He would get only this one chance to make a case before Uhtred, and if he failed or had misjudged the mans’s character, well. Sihtric would not have much time for regret.

“I wish to serve you, lord. I could have killed both, but I wish to serve you.” He could only hope that sparing the lives of Uhtred’s men would earn him some grace with the lord, at least enough to make him receptive.

“You are Kjartan’s man,” Uhtred called back suspiciously.

“No, I’m Kjartan’s bastard son whelped on slave girl. And you are Uhtred Ragnarsson. And I wish to serve a warrior and a lord, a _true_ lord!”

“If you believe me to be these things, then put down your sword.”

Sihtric had no guarantee of his life, nothing but faith Uhtred’s coaxing was no act and the man would not simply slice him cock to throat as soon as he dropped his guard. But he had offered his sword to this man, this man he already respected, and he could only hope it would be enough.

It _had_ to be enough, for Sihtric knew if he had misread the lord Uhtred it would be the last mistake he’d ever make.

He did not flinch when Uhtred approached him, desperate to show himself as an asset, a _warrior_ , and not the whimpering boy his father saw. _I must have courage._

He could never go back to Kjartan now, wouldn’t dream of it even if he could. _Please_ , he thought, _please_. He sent a prayer to any gods who were listening. _This is my last chance. Please_.

Sihtric had spent his entire life beseaching the gods, and rarely had they answered his pleas. They’d been silent when Kjartan beat him, whipped him, and quieter still when he did the same to Sihtric’s mother. He can still remember her screams the day Kjartan had given his mother over to his men, and forced Sihtric to watch. _“I grow tired of her,”_ he’d laughed, _“but I’ll give her one last use.”_

If the gods cared for Sihtric at all, this was their last opportunity to show it. “I’m not loyal to Kjartan and never can be.”

He clutched at the pendant he wore around his neck and swore his sword to the lord Uhtred on Thor’s own hammer. Then Sihtric fell to his knees.

“I swear,” he said again.

When Uhtred responded in turn and offered Sihtric his protection, Sihtric nearly wept in relief. He did his best to conceal the tremble in his limbs and thanked Uhtred as earnestly as he could.

He knew he would never give Uhtred cause to regret this decision. _I will prove myself worthy of this trust_ , Sihtric thought, _I will_.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in the middle of s2e2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated!

Sihtric had always known that _Kjartan the Cruel_ was not known for his gentle nature, but the men who had served under him had always seemed perfectly happy to rape and pillage and kill for the pleasure of it. Until joining Uhtred’s company, Sihtric had believed all men the same, and he himself too weak and powerless to either join in or put an end to it. 

After all, as Kjartan delighted in reminding him, Sihtric was no man. A skilled fighter perhaps, but only because fate saw fit for Tekil to take pity on him. Kjartan made sure Sihtric never forgot his place: he was a bastard and a slave, the lowest kind of creature. There would be no honor for him. 

It was Uhtred’s men — and _woman_ , strange as it had seemed when he was first captured — who had convinced Sihtic that Uhtred Ragnarsson was a man to be followed.

He had followed Tekil’s orders obediently, came when called like a beaten dog and attacked with all the strength he had. Sihtric wasn’t surprised that Uhtred’s men would come to their Lord’s aid, but he had been shocked to watch them afterwards. 

The abbess Hild had hovered over Uhtred, dressing a small cut on his brow and carefully washing the blood from his face. Uhtred was indeed a great warrior, and the attack had been short-lived. Still, he sat and endured her fussing with only friendly teasing. 

Sihtric had never known Kjartan, nor his vile half-brother Sven, or any of their men to suffer the tender attentions of a woman after battle. He had never known any woman to come willing to his father’s side, or to stay there by choice.

Sihtric had never seen any man inspire such loyalty, and he hoped desperately that the man was as worthy of it as he seemed. 

* * *

In the days following his oath, Sihtric did all he could to earn a place among Lord Uhtred’s strange company. His lord moved among the camp easily, stopping to chat and eat with soldiers and serving girls alike — all of which looked at him with the same obvious admiration in their eyes. 

Sihtric watched Uhtred share a drink with his most loyal companions, the big man Clapa and the warrior Hild and prickly little Halig, who had yet to forgive Sihtric for the way in which negotiated for his freedom. 

_They are devoted to him,_ Sihtric thought, as they all laughed together and Uhtred threw an easy arm around the nun’s shoulders. Sihtric felt a pang run through his chest. How he longed to be among them.

For as long as he could remember, Sihtric had dreamed of an opportunity like this, to be a _true_ warrior. Unlike his father and brother, he took no joy in tormenting the weak and helpless.

But this was his chance to fight with honor, to follow a lord who was fair — a man respected by all and feared only by his enemies... Sihtric could still scarcely believe Lord Uhtred had accepted his oath and allowed him into his service.

_I will earn my place here. Please, if this is truly my destiny, give me a chance to prove myself._


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sihtric bides his time in Cornwallum after Uhtred is sold into slavery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in s2e3. Next chapter they will be reunited, and the rating may have to go up!

When Lord Uhtred was taken from them, Sihtric despaired. _Of course,_ he thought bitterly, _of course the gods would see fit to torment me in such a way. It was foolish to expect anything else._ It was not lost on Sihtric that while Lord Uhtred had granted him his freedom, his lord now languished in chains. 

For as long as Uhtred Ragnarsson lived, Sihtric was bound to him. This he knew. _I will not fail you._ On Thor’s hammer, Sihtric swore he would never cease searching for his lord.

Of course, this fierce devotion to Uhtred did not stop Sihtric from spending his entire first moon alone in Cornwallum in a stupor, drunk and brooding and lost in a turbulent sea of regrets. There was nothing to be done until Hild returned from Winchester. _If she returns,_ Sihtric thought with a pang. 

It was not until the lady Gisela approached him that Sihtric found purpose once more. Although she was a noble woman by birth, Sihtric could see plainly that she lived in chains -- just as Lord Uhtred now did, just as Sihtric himself once had. 

Sihtric knew he could not allow his lord’s dearest companion to be sold into a marriage against her will, and he agreed readily to help her escape. He stole into the stables on light feet, a lifetime of working desperately to go unnoticed for once an advantage. Sihtric dispatched the two guards easily, and dragged their unconscious bodies into an empty stall. With the first step in his plan successfully completed, Sihtric turned back to the horses. 

He had always felt at peace in the stables, even as a child. After all, horses were nothing like men. He had tended to them gladly, happy to shovel shit if it meant he would be left alone for a few blessed hours.

Sihtric even used to share his meager rations with his favorite mare in Dunholm, sneaking the beast half of his rotted apples in exchange for a scrap of affection. 

And the horses _were_ magnificent beasts, graceful and wild and sure. Sihtric had dreamed as a small boy of running with the horses, of feeling the wind on his face and knowing that his own strong legs could carry him away to freedom. He stopped dreaming of anything after his mother died, but Sihtric’s fondness for horses remained. 

The horses in Cornwallum did not know Sihtric as those in Dunholm had, but he spoke to them in a low, gentle whisper and they warmed to him quickly. Sihtric smiled softly as he readied two horses for Gisela and her lady, perhaps for the first time since Uhtred had been captured.

Sihtric had desperately missed having apurpose, and it was a balm to his fraying spirit to find himself back inside a stable.

Once the preparations were made, Sihtric ran to the palace swiftly, moving like a shadow among the common folk. He had a gift for stealth, and Sihtric made use of it as he headed towards the agreed upon meeting place.

It would not do for anyone to have Lady Gisela’s absconsion from the city to be linked to him. 

Once in position, Sihtic settled into a darkened corner and waited. He did not wait long. After a short time, Gisela and her companion emerged from a side door dressed in traveling cloaks. Sihtric approached the pair. 

“The horses are ready?” she asked.

“They are, lady.” 

“Sihtric,” she whispered, “I choose you because you are loyal to Lord Uhtred.” For the second time that day, Sihtric felt a small smile grace his lips.

“Always, lady.” He meant it. 

Gisela grabbed his hand and thrust a folded piece of parchment inside. Urgently, she continued, “You will give this note to Hild when she returns.” 

Lady Gisela tried for a smile. “She will return.”

He nodded firmly and saw the lady tremble, though she tried to conceal it. Sihtric had spent little time in the company of women, but he tried his best to be reassuring. 

_If Hild does not return with support from Alfred, all will be lost. It cannot be so._

He wondered grimly what Gisela would do if Uhtred could not be recovered. As she made for the horses, Sihtric turned towards Lady Gisela and asked, “How long will you be gone, lady?” 

“All I know is that I cannot stay.” 

As Sihtric watched her figure retreat into the distance, he felt the ever-present weight on his chest grow heavier. Another vow, another promise, another person who had put their trust in him...and yet all Sihtric could do was bide his time. He felt useless and lost, as he had often felt before his service to lord Uhtred began. 

He wondered for a moment if Kjartan had been right about him after all. He was _weak._ Sihtric shut his eyes against the sting of tears he felt building and took a steadying breath. 

Sihtric conjured into his mind the memory of Uhtred -- his lord who was fearless and true, who had allowed Sihtric to serve him when he could have easily put him to the sword. Lord Uhtred was counting on him. _Lady Gisela_ was counting on him, and all who traveled with her. Even Halig needed him now, though the man would likely never grow fond of him.

It was no time for doubt. He tucked the missive into a pouch on his belts and snuck away. 

* * *

With a mission to guide him, Sihtric found himself resting easier. He awaited the abbess Hild with a newfound patience, and when she did finally return she was not alone. As word spread through the city of the arrival of a party of Danes -- accompanied by Sister Hild, no less -- Sihtric found a place in the shadows of the market stalls before the palace gates. 

He watched the warrior woman upon her horse, an idea came to him. Sihtric grabbed an apple and used his knife to cut a wide slit in the flesh, then made eye contact with Brea, the innkeeper’s daughter. He motioned for her, and the small girl wandered over eagerly.

For only a small coin and (the promise of another when the task was done), she was happy enough to deliver his message to Hild. 

When it was done, Hild’s eyes met his across the courtyard. He saw surprise flash across her face, and Sihtric nodded once before disappearing back into the crowd. He would find her again when the time was right, and join in their quest to bring Lord Uhtred home.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sitric finds Uhtred again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so I lied...rating will definitely go up next chapter though!!

As the first days after Uhtred’s rescue crept by, Sihtric confined himself to the edges of the camp. Like a moth near a flame, he hovered on the outskirts, content enough to be near Lord Uhtred and know he was safe. His lord needed rest, and Sihtric would not be the one to deny him. But after three days and nights, the pull he felt to Uhtred became too strong to resist, and Sihtric found him sitting alone near a small creek.

“My lord,” he said softly, careful to announce his presence. Odin knew how often Sihtric had flinched to attention during his first days among Uhtred’s men. Some days, he still did. 

“Sihtric,” Uhtred breathed. “It seems you have kept your vow afterall.” 

Sihtric frowned. “Of course, lord. Now and always.” he said seriously. He walked cautiously towards Uhtred’s side and took a seat on the sun-warmed earth.

 _I owe you all. I would not abandon you,_ he did not say. “You are the only man I wish to follow.”

Uhtred smiled -- or tried to, though it looked more like a grimace, and sighed. It was a long moment before he spoke. “I fear I am not the man I once was.”

“Lord, no.” Sihtric voice was quiet, but his tone was firm. “You are Uhtred of Bebbanburg, son of Ragnar the Fearless. Men from all across England have been searching for you since the day you were taken from us.” 

Uhtred laughed, but without humor. “And now that you have found me, what is left?”

“I still recognize you,” Sihtric whispered, with a conviction that surprised even himself. “You are the man I chose to serve. A true warrior and a true lord.” Sihtric’s face burned at his own sincerity, and he found himself unable to hold his lord’s eyes. 

Uhtred frowned. “You see me as I was.” 

“I see you as you _are,_ lord!” 

Sihtric could not say what forced him to push on despite his lord’s reluctance, but he knew he could not sit idly by while Uhtred disparaged himself. 

“You have courage and honor to match any man. That I live at all is proof enough of that.” Sihtric kept his eyes cast downwards. “You could have killed me easily, and the lords of Cornwallum would be all the happier for it. But you chose another way. Most would have perished upon the sea. I have seen enough of the slaves in Dunholm sold to Sverri to be sure of that. That you live is a sign, a message from the gods.”

When Sihtric looked towards Uhtred once more, the lord’s mouth was quirked into a slight smile. It was small, but it was the first time Sihtric saw Uhtred look like himself since he had been rescued. Sihtric allowed himself to smile in return before he continued. 

“Destiny is everything, Lord Uhtred,” he murmured, “the gods have plans for you yet.” 

At this, Uhtred’s smile grew, and some of the tension seemed to seep from his body and into the soft grass below them.

“My grandfather used to say the same. _‘Destiny is all, Uhtred, destiny is everything.’_ He reminded my brother Ragnar and I of this often.”

Uhtred let out a small laugh before his features sobered again. “Perhaps you are wiser than you look, Sihtric.”

Sihtric returned the jest easily. “I do my best, lord.” 

Uhtred looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment before releasing a long breath from his nose. “You do, don’t you?”

“My lord?”

“Hild tells me it is you I must thank for Lady Gisela’s escape from Cornwallum.” Lord Uhtred met his eyes intently. “We ride to her now because of you.”

The flush returned to Sihtric’s cheeks, but this time he did not break Uhtred’s gaze. “Yes lord, but... it was her plan, all of it. In truth, I only assisted with the horses.” 

Uhtred hummed in response. “She is a clever woman, Lady Gisela. She knew enough to rely upon you.” 

“Lord, I-” Sihtric faltered. He was unused to such praise, especially from a man he admired so greatly, and did not know how to react.

“The lady knows I am loyal to you, always. That is all.” 

At this, Uhtred into Sihtric’s space and brought their foreheads together. “I will not forget what you have done for me, Sihtric.” 

The scene around them seemed to fade away. The trees, the stream, the sounds of running water and wind rushing through the tall grasses... all disappeared until Sihtric’s senses were full of nothing but Uhtred. His entire world narrowed down to the small point of contact between them. 

Lord Uhtred continued to peer into his eyes, and now Sihtric could not bear to turn away. He felt, distantly, his heart thundering in his chest. The burning that had begun at his face spread throughout Sihtric’s body from where they touched, consuming him entirely. 

A lock of Uhtred’s newly shorn hair escapitee from its ties and fell between them. Without a thought, Sihtric reached to tuck it back into place, and a shudder wracked lord Uhtred’s frame. 

Suddenly, a call came from the top of the embankment behind them. “Lord Uhtred! We are almost ready to ride on!” 

Hild’s steady voice carried down to them, and Uhtred pulled away from him with a rueful smile. Sihtric felt the loss of contact keenly.

”My apologies, Sihtric,” he said quietly. “It has been some time since I have been touched in such a way.” 

“Yes, lord, of course,” came Sihtric’s eventual reply, but by the time he found his voice Lord Uhtred had already begun walking away. Sihtric’s heart was still trying to beat its way from his chest, and he felt as if in a daze. 

He remained seated for a moment longer before he could bring himself to stand. For a moment, Sihtric could have sworn Lord Uhtred’s face was as red as his own. He wondered if he had imagined it -- just as he was certain he had imagined the flash of regret on Uhtred’s face upon their interruption. 

When Sihtric reached the crest of the hill, Hild was waiting for him. She leaned against an oak tree with a curious expression on her face, but said nothing.

In the months they spent searching for Lord Uhtred, Sihtric had struck up a strange and tentative friendship with the abbess. After he had passed Lady Gisela’s message to her, Hild had begrudgingly placed trust in him and allowed Sihtric to travel with her party. Sihtric, in turn, had carefully continued Uhtred’s sword-skill lessons whenever they had a quiet evening. 

Still, he was grateful she made no comment as he approached her, nor as they joined Lord Uhtred, Clapa, Steappa, Finan, Earl Ragnar and the others in clearing the camp and preparing the horses. Sihtric could feel her eyes on him for the rest of the day, just as he knew his own eyes were drawn to Lord Uhtred. 

_It meant nothing_ , Sihtric thought, _it must have._ Just as his lord had said, Uhtred had merely been overwhelmed after living for so many moons with only the touch of a whip, no more. Sihtric was more than familiar with the ways pain could warp the mind. 

No lord had need of the pathetic affections of a worthless slave, Sihtric knew — let alone a lord such as Uhtred who could have anyone he desired with no more than a well-timed look. 

_It is enough that I have found him again. It must be._


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next night, Sihtric dreamed of Uhtred.

The next night, Sihtric dreamed of Uhtred. 

His lord found him laying under the stars and climbed beneath Sitric’s furs. Around them, there was no sound save for the quiet hum of insects, and, distantly, the _whoosh_ of running water. They were alone.

“Sihtric,” Uhtred said. 

“Lord?”

“You will call me Uhtred,” he whispered. It was Sihtric’s turn to shudder. 

Their shared heat beneath the furs was stifling. Sihtric leaned his body into Uhtred’s, and felt content to burn. 

“Yes lord. Uhtred.” A smile graced his lips, and Uhtred huffed a laugh. 

“It is warm tonight, is it not? Perhaps you would be more comfortable if you removed some of your armor.” He cocked an eyebrow playfully, and Sihtric felt his chest constrict. 

“I know I will be safe with you.” At his lord’s prodding, he added, “...Uhtred.” 

Uhtred laughed again. “I will protect you well enough. But no one will harm you here.”

The band around Sihtric’s heart tightened further, and he burrowed deeper into the warmth of Uhtred’s body beside him. 

“It is a pleasant enough night,” Sihtric muttered. Uhtred grinned broadly, and promptly began divesting him of the offending layers. 

When he was down to only his breeches and a light tunic, Uhtred’s hand reached out and stroked across Sihtric’s chest carefully, an intimate touch that Sihtric found at once soothing and erotic. His cock, which had stirred the moment Uhtred laid down beside him, grew firmer still.

 _He touches me as if calming a frightened horse_ , he thought wryly. But Sihtric was not afraid. Uhtred would not hurt him.

Lord Uhtred’s hands drifted to the hem of his tunic, but wandred no further. He raised his eyebrow yet again, and, emboldened by the care Uhtred took with him, Sihtric pulled the garment above his head and tossed it aside. 

“Eager, are you?” Uhtred teased. 

“Yes,” Sihtric replied truthfully. For a moment, Uhtred almost seemed surprised by the easy admission. Then he let out a low growl and surged forward until their foreheads were pressed together, just as they had been when Sihtric sat with Uhtred by the stream. 

“I am going to kiss you,” Uhtred breathed against his mouth.

Sihtric saw the heat he felt reflected back to him in Uhtred’s face, and slowly the distance between their lips shrunk to nothing. 

Sihtric heard a groan, and realized with a tinge of embarrassment that it had come from him. Uhtred didn’t seem to mind, however, if the persistent weight pressing against his hip was anything to go by. 

The kiss did not remain chaste for long, and soon Sihtric felt Uhtred’s tongue press at the seam of his lips.

He opened his mouth for Uhtred happily, and groaned again when Uhtred’s tongue found its way inside. Sihtric felt a wash of emotions he could not name, all of which were dwarfed by the sudden, burning _need_ that coursed through his veins. 

Uhtred kissed him skillfully, hungrily, and Sihtric felt a calloused hand drift to his jaw. The warmth he felt there seemed to radiate throughout his entire body. Lord Uhtred was not the first man to invite himself into Sihtric’s bed, but he was the first man Sihtric had ever wanted there, the only man he had ever desired so intensely — and the only to touch him with care.

The pleasure grew, and Sihtric wanted more; he _needed_ more. Without waiting a moment longer, he rolled onto his back and pulled Uhtred to lay above him. The solid weight of his body pressed Sihtric into the earth, and he gasped at the feel of it.

Uhtred laughed and kissed him again. Just the sight of his lord on top of him was enough to make Sihtric feel drunk. The need to know Uhtred pulsed within him urgently, and he tugged at the other man’s tunic. 

“I am still too warm, lord. Perhaps you are as well?” 

“Sihtric,” his lord said as he made quick work of his own clothing, “I have told you to call me Uhtred.”

“Uhtred!” he gasped, as the lord bent and began to suck love bruises across his neck. 

“That’s more like it,” Uhtred smirked. By the time Uhtred was done biting and licking at his sensitive skin, Sihtric was aching.

Sihtric hurriedly pulled at the laces of his own breaches. As he did, his knuckles brushed against Lord Uhtred’s cock, which jutted proudly between them. He was flushed red and desperately hard. Sihtric was in much the same state — and bare at last.

Uhtred reached his hand between their bodies and brought their lengths together, using the precome that was leaked steadily from Sihtric’s cock to ease the friction. 

As he stroked them, Uhtred whispered, “you’re so wet for me, Sihtric, feel so good.”

He arched his back helplessly, the slick slide of Uhtred’s hand and the words he whispered against his ear nearly too sweet for Sihtric to bear. 

Sihtric used his trembling hands to angle Lord Uhtred’s face back toward his. Forehead to forehead once more, Sihtric could see how dark Uhtred’s eyes were; his pupils were blown so wide they nearly eclipsed the irises. 

His lord kissed him once more, causing Sihtric to thrust roughly against him. Uhtred broke the kiss to utter a curse, and quickened the pace of his hand around their cocks. 

“Please, Uhtred, I-” Sihtric moaned as he lost his words to Uhtred’s firm grip. 

Sparks raced up his spine, and Sihtric’s body seemed nothing but one endless nerve alight with pleasure. His breathing came in ragged huffs. With soft grass below him and his lord smiling above, Sihtric had never felt so content, nor so cherished. 

Until the Spinners wove Uhtred into his life, Sihtric had never imagined taking such pleasure from laying on his back in an open field while a lord rutted on top of him. As it was, Sihtric felt so desperate for it he could die. 

The only light shone from the moon. Their moans carried across the mild night, and Sihtric felt his climax rising closer, closer, until— 

* * *

Sihtric woke with a gasp. He had bedded down a small distance from the others, for which he was currently quite grateful. His cock was hard as steel beneath his furs, laying heavy on his belly and aching to be touched. 

He saw Lord Uhtred’s prone form laying nearby, and Sihtric longed to go to him. Then his face burned as a wave of shame overtook him and Sihtric had to close his eyes against the onslaught. 

_Has he not suffered enough without your perversions? Uhtred has been kind to you, kinder than you deserve. Would you defile his trust with your hideous lusts?_

Sihtric rolled onto his side, away from Uhtred, unable to face his lord any longer _._ His lord would never return his unnatural desires, Sihtric knew.

Still, the dream played over and over again in his mind — how he had felt safe and warm, how good it was to be touched gently… 

_Pathetic,_ he heard Kjartan say. _Not even a warrior, just begging to be humped by one. I should have gotten rid of you just like your whore mother._

Perhaps Sihtric’s father had known his worth all along, and treated him accordingly. His thoughts cut at him like so many knives, and Sihtric lay bleeding quietly until dawn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback keeps me young and beautiful!!!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Accompanies season 2 episode 5.

By the time Lord Uhtred led them towards Loidis, his new wife Lady Gisela was already with child. Sihtric was happy for her, truly, and for Uhtred too. Still, he could not help the longing that bloomed in his chest whenever he was too near his lord. 

He knew it was foolish to harbor such affections for Lord Uhtred, that his desires were shameful and unreciprocated, but Sihtric found he could no longer deny the truth of his heart -- at least within the privacy of his own mind. At least Sihtric had sense enough not to hope for anything to ever truly occur between them.

After all, Lord Uhtred was a good man, a _great_ man, and Sihtric was no man at all. He’d lived his entire life as a slave in Dunholm, friendless and without honor. Kjartan had known no limits in exercising his power, and on more than one occasion had ordered his warriors to remind Sihtric of his place. They had made him _sansorðinn_ , soiled. Uhtred wouldn’t take him even if he wanted to.

While his lord may have once belonged to the late Earl Ragnar -- then again to Master Sverri, and now to King Alfred -- in his heart he’d always been free. Were Lord Uhtred to find himself in need of a hump, there was no reason to sully himself with the likes of Sihtric. To be close to Uhtred, to serve him… it was more than Sihtric deserved. 

Besides, Sihtric was presently the happiest he could ever remember being. Every night he slept with warm food in his belly and trusted companions at his side. The only wounds on his body came from fighting or training, never his lord’s fist. He grew closer still to Hild, despite their apparent differences. She continued to send him inquisitive looks, but had yet to broach the subject of Uhtred or decry him as a sinner.

Even Finan, the bastard Irishman Uhtred brought back from Iceland, had taken a liking to Sihtric, and by the time they reached Cornwallum their band drank merrily together at the tables outside the alehouse. While Finan recounted a bawdy tale of his youth -- involving, miraculously, two drunken priests, a large drunken ass, and three hundred pieces of silver -- Sihtric noticed tentative steps behind him. 

Ever vigilant, he turned in his seat and felt the ale in his stomach turn sour. King Guthred had left his palace and deigned to join them after all. 

_He dares to approach!_

Sihtric felt his lip curl in disgust, but made no move. His heart brimmed with hatred for the Christian king who had betrayed his lord. If Uhtred would have allowed it, Sihtric would have struck him down gladly. 

“Uhtred, will you join me please?” Sihtric looked on warily as his lord rose and stalked to where Guthred meekly stood. 

_Some king he is._

The two men stood a few paces away from Sihtric’s table and spoke in hushed tones. Sihtric, like the other onlookers, made little attempt to conceal his eavesdropping. Sihtric could not believe the _nerve_ of Guthred! To perpetrate such a vile betrayal against Lord Uhtred, the man who had rescued the king from bondage, and then to have the gall to walk up to Uhtred right in the square… Sihtic seethed, and wished fervently that he could unleash his fury on the stinking turd before him.

“Yes, but in my defense, I was meant to kill you-” Guthred whimpered, “I-I spared your life--” A loud _crack_ echoed through the courtyard a beat after Lord Uhtred slapped the king across his face. For a moment, all seemed to hold their breath before Sihtric and the other Danes present burst into uproarious laughter. 

Death would be more fitting, Sihtric thought, but to a Danish Christian like Guthred it would be an excruciating humiliation _. It is far less than he deserves for such a crime._

Sihtric kept a hand on the hilt of his blade, ready to intervene should the king decide to take offense at Uhtred’s insult.

When Guthred finally announced that he would support them in seizing Dunholm from Kjartan, Sihtric felt a rush of excitement run through him. The feeling did not last long.

“Sihtric!” 

“Yes lord?” he asked, jumping to Uhtred’s side at once.

“You lied to me.” Sihtric’s stomach seemed to plummeted to the earth below him. Lie? To _Uhtred_? He would never dishonor his lord in such a way.

“Lord, I- I would never-” He hated the tremor in his voice, but as Sihtric looked back and forth between Lord Uhtred and his brother he felt a wash of icy fear run down his spine. Without thinking, he braced for the blow that he knew would come. 

“You told me Dunholm has no weaknesses,” Uhtred continued, “yet last time I was there, I saw a door along the east wall. Access to a water spring.” 

The acrid fear Sihtric felt retreated far enough for confusion to flood in in its place. He looked nervously between Uhtred and Ragnar. 

_Surely, if they meant to punish me it would have already begun?_

“Yes lord, but…” Sihtric trailed off and took a step closer to Lord Uhtred. “You could never bring an army through it.” 

The warm hand Uhtred placed on his shoulder burned away the last of Sihtric’s residual unease, and a smile that was part mirth, part danger bloomed on the lord’s face. 

“I would not be bringing an army.”

* * *

When the fighting was done and Dunholm theirs, all Sihtric felt was numb. He had watched mutely while Ragnar hacked away at Kjartan until his father’s bloody corpse was barely recognizable. Kjartan the Cruel died screaming in agony, the glory of Valhalla forever denied to him, and Sihtric felt nothing. 

All around him, soldiers raised toasts to their great victory. Dunholm was littered with the bodies of the dead, and Sihtric walked among them as if he himself was no more than a ghost. The men who had tormented him for as long as Sihtric could remember were all gone, some felled by his own sword, yet he could not bring himself to join in the celebrations. 

Instead, Sihtric’s feet traced the familiar route to the stables. The horses greeted him happily enough, and Sihtric fell to his knees on the dirt floor just as the first tear slid hotly down his bloody face. His ragged breaths began to hitch, and before long sobs wracked Sihtric’s aching body. When Sihtric’s eyes finally ran dry he collapsed in an exhausted heap and curled himself as small as he could, desperate to shrink away to nothing. Eventually, he fell into a restless sleep. 

Once again, Sihtric dreamt of Lord Uhtred -- except in this dream, Uhtred spit in his face and called him _ergi_ , slapped him as he had struck King Guthred while Kjartan’s cruel amusement howled all around him and mocked that Sihtric was no warrior at all.

_Kjartan’s laughter grew into a roar, louder and louder and then louder still until Sihtric swore his brains would drip from his ears. Suddenly Uhtred vanished, and in his place was Sihtric’s mother Elflæd. She smiled widely at him, and as she did her teeth began to drop from her bloody maw, which became a huge, gaping black hole that swallowed Sihtric completely._

_“I should have cut your mother’s womb when my seed took root,” Kjartan hissed in his ear. Sihtric screamed as red hot pain seared across his back. “Spared myself the craven sight of you.”_

Sihtric was still screaming when Uhtred shook him awake a short time later. For a moment, it was not his lord’s face in front of him but that of Kjartan the Cruel, and Sihtric could not hide the naked fear in his eyes.

“Please! L-Lord- I’ve had enough, I’m sorry Lord! Please, father, I have learned my lesson-” Sihtric scampered backwards blindly until his back hit the outer wall of the stable. With nowhere left to escape, he lifted his arms to protect himself from the blows that would certainly keep coming. 

“Sihtric! It is me, Lord Uhtred!” He gave no sign that he heard. “Sihtric,” Uhtred said imploringly, “look at me, it is Uhtred. You are safe.” 

Slowly, he lifted a hand to rest on Sihtric’s trembling shoulder. 

“Sihtric…please look at me. I swore you would always have my protection. I’m not going to hurt you.” At long last Sihtric’s eyes gradually began to focus on him, and Uhtred sighed in relief as the younger man slowly began to calm.

“I have been searching for you for many hours.”

“My apologies, lord,” Sihtric whispered, his shame palpable now that reason had returned to him. 

“None are required.” Uhtred clambered to his feet and offered his hand down to Sihtric. “But the floor of a stable does not befit a man of your station. You are a warrior,” Lord Uhtred said firmly, “a _great_ warrior, and my most loyal friend. I will not have you sleep in a pile of manure.”

Sihtric stood with great effort, and cast his reddened eyes to the ground. Blessedly, Lord Uhtred seemed to understand his need for silence, and did not press Sihtric to speak. He led them back to the great hall, surreptitiously checking to make sure that Sihtric followed. Uhtred ignored the raucous cheers of his men and herded Sihtric up the stairs and towards the family quarters at the back of the fort. 

Once inside the abandoned sleeping area, Uhtred gently pushed Sihtric to sit on a low bed while he bustled around the room collecting supplies. When he had gathered all he needed, Lord Uhtred knelt before Sihtric and quietly began to wipe the blood from his scarred arms. 

After a time, Sihtric seemed to fully come back to himself. At last, he spoke. “It’s strange… did you know I’ve never been in Kjartan’s personal rooms? This part of the keep is for the family only.” Sihtric laughed, but it was not a happy sound. “It is uglier than I expected.” Uhtred did not know what words would bring comfort, so he tried his best to calm Sihtric with his touch.

“My mother and I stayed below ground with the rest of the slaves. When she died, I slept with the horses...” _If I was lucky_ , Sihtric added in his head. His lord seemed to pick up on what was left unsaid, and frowned unhappily. Uhtred continued to tend him, and Sihtric relaxed into the soothing motions of the damp cloth against his skin. Eventually, Lord Uhtred spoke. 

“Kjartan was a cruel man, Sihtric, and without honor. I am not surprised to hear these things.” Sihtric’s glassy eyes found Uhtred’s. 

“I saw him die, but it doesn’t feel like he’s dead.” Uhtred looked at him sadly. “I don’t feel sad, I don’t feel happy… I don’t know what I feel. I’ve hated him for so long, and now that he’s gone I just feel empty. Is that wrong?” Sihtric asked quietly. 

“No, it is not wrong. But the emptiness will fade, Sihtric, and in its place I don’t know what will grow.” Lord Uhtred was finished with his task, but remained kneeling for the time being. “But that will not be wrong either.”

Sihtric stared at Uhtred intently, without blinking. “You fought well today. You will need to rest, and to heal. We all will.” Sihtric nodded.

“Yes, lord,” he agreed quietly.

“I’d like you to stay here and rest for the night.” 

Sihtric’s back tensed. “No, I- I’d rather retire back to the stables.” Uhtred raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “I am not fit for the lord’s chamber.”

“Sihtric, don’t be a fool. You need sleep, and you’re not like to get it on the floor surrounded by horse shit. Please do not force me to order you.”

Reluctantly, Sihtric acquiesced to his lord’s request -- with one condition. “I will stay here, Lord Uhtred, if you agree to do the same. There is more than enough room. You have earned rest more than any man in Dunholm, and you look as if you have not slept in weeks.”

Uhtred laughed. “Fair enough,” he allowed, and promptly began to strip his armor off. Sihtric carefully averted his eyes and did the same. “Shove over.” Sihtric complied gladly, secretly relieved that he would not have to face his nightmares alone this night. Once they were both abed the scent of his lord enveloped Sihtric’s senses, and he fell quickly into a much more peaceful sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments & kudos!!!! I run exclusively on feedback and caffeine.
> 
> I did some light research into Viking attitudes toward homosexuality, but any historical inaccuracies are my own. The terminology and their definitions from this chapter are pulled from here: https://sourcebooks.fordham.edu/pwh/gayvik.asp  
> Sansorðinn and ergi are both grave insults in old Norse.  
> Sansorðinn = “demonstrably sexually used by another man”  
> Ergi = a coward, a man who takes the passive role in homosexual intercourse 
> 
> As far as I understand it, the Vikings had pretty similar opinions about queer people as many other historical cultures, aka that it’s nbd to have sex with other men as long as you’re not the one taking it up the ass. For a receptive sexual partner (or even someone who was accused of being a bottom) to maintain any kind of positive reputation he would of have to have been a great and fearsome warrior...so we’ll see how that one plays out.


End file.
